


lifehouse

by rippedgloves



Series: There's nothing but a play thing [1]
Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Dom/sub, Dominance, Established Relationship, M/M, Open Relationships, Polyamory, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 17:25:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rippedgloves/pseuds/rippedgloves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s just that. I haven’t explained it to anyone before, I don’t know how. Louis and I, we fit together. We’re right together, that’s how we work. Like we’re—connected, somehow.”</p>
<p>“So you are together.”</p>
<p>“But not—not really. I mean. Lou’s with Eleanor, yeah? She’s his girlfriend. I’m not—that’s not what we are. We’re not. We’re not like an item, a couple. We’re—we’re us.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	lifehouse

**Author's Note:**

> This is part one of a series I'm writing, each from a different POV. 
> 
> It's really just my headcanon about all these relationships, because D/s rocks and polyamory rocks and this way everyone can be happy and sexy together and there's no unrequited love. 
> 
> Part 2 & 3 will be posted soon.

(just remember darling, you belong to me)

*

The thing is—Eleanor is really great.

Louis  _adores_  her. She’s warm and funny and soft in all the right places, and always smells nice and manages to make him smile when he’s having a shit day. The thing is, she’s wonderful, and Louis wishes he could give himself to her completely. But he can’t.

He’s tried it, back before he and Harry had finally figured it out and were still holding back, playing safe. It was a train-wreck, and they were miserable and he was an arse to El and things just spiraled down until he and Harry sat down and talked and realized that’s how it was going to be.

And it works.

Telling Eleanor wasn’t easy, but Harry felt really bad lying to her, because he actually likes her too (that’s how great she is, really) and eventually it came to the point where Harry wouldn’t get in bed unless Louis talked to her.

She doesn’t get it, Louis thinks. He doesn’t think anyone ever could, though. But she goes along with it, and they make it work. Harry avoids her as much as he can because he knows she gets uncomfortable sometimes, by how close he and Louis sit or the way he can’t help to nuzzle against Louis’ neck, how he melts when Louis scratches his hair.

And Louis appreciates it, because he loves El, even if he doesn’t  _love_  her, and he wants to make her as happy as he can, given the circumstances. So they go out for coffee or dinner and out to the posh clubs that Harry loathes (and Louis secretly hates them too, if only because Harry does) and it works, they work.

Except sometimes Louis wishes it weren’t like that, because he misses Harry. Sometimes there’s a soft tug at his heart when he gets too far away, like a reminder that he forgot something, that he left it behind. He almost aches for Harry, sometimes, and he can control it most of the time and smile through it and kiss Eleanor properly and not let it get in the way. But other times he can’t and he can’t help getting twitchy and snappy, ruining the evening for both of them.

He wonders if it’s the same for Harry, when he’s out with his other friends, or on those rare nights when he goes home with a girl and doesn’t crawl to Louis’ feet in bed and wait for Louis to let him into bed (except sometimes he does, early in the morning after he’s sneaked out of someone’s, and Louis almost wants to tell him to go to bed, that he’s not allowed to be there, but that’s not how it works and they’ve set the rules and he doesn’t get to be upset about it.) He wonders if Harry’s body hurts when they’re apart, like he does, or if it gets harder to smile when they haven’t seen each other for too long.

It isn’t the easiest, and it certainly isn’t the kind of relationship Louis would have picked if he was given a choice, but as he and Harry have known for a long time now, they didn’t have a choice. They didn’t pick this. They simply tried their hardest to hold back until they both broke and realized there is no other way they can be. They’re bound together.

The rest of the lads don’t really know what’s going on, but Louis reckons they know. There’s only so many times Harry can sit at his feet and wait for his head to be scratched without raising suspicion. And if that hadn’t hinted it, then the way Harry looks at Louis before doing anything, asking for permission, or how he goes through with anything Louis says, no matter how ridiculous—it’s quite obvious, really.

Louis thinks even the fans have started picking it up, by now, but they attribute it to a sexual meaning that, while it surely is there, could not be farthest from being the reason they act the way they do.

The thing is, Harry is  _his_.

 Harry is his, and he never asked for it and never thought he would want it, but owning Harry feels more natural than the first breath of fresh air he takes in the morning, and Louis thinks that has to mean something. He didn’t choose the way they live, he just fell into it when he realized he didn’t have a choice, and it makes him happy, happier than anything else has ever made him, so he figures it can’t be that _wrong_.

It’s hard not to overstep, though. It’s hard to know when to stop, when he needs to hold back an order no matter how strong the urge is. It’s hard to keep in mind that there are aspects of Harry’s life that are out of it, out of this, and that he doesn’t get to control them.

That’s where Nick comes in.

Louis was never Nick’s biggest fan, if only because he was jealous. Even from the start, the adoring way Harry had of staring at Nick made Louis’ blood boil, but that was still back in the day when they were starting to figure it out and when Louis felt like slaying anyone who’d even consider laying a hand on H _arry._

It’s different now, they’re friends, Nick and him. And Nick and Harry, too, naturally –the only reason Louis even ever considered talking to Nick was because Harry asked so nicely, because he had his puppy eyes on and was sitting on the floor next to the bed, looking up at Louis so pleadingly Louis could not possibly say no.

So they’re friends, and Louis maybe wants to boil Nick alive from time to time, when he gets particularly touchy or when he makes one of those insides jokes that Louis doesn’t get and that make Harry laugh his loudest laugh; but most of the time it works.

It works, because for every time Harry looks at Nick with heart in his eyes, he presses his lips to Louis’ neck and whispers something sweet in his ear (probably a question, Harry’s always full of questions about everything, like he thinks Louis holds every answer in him) and maybe asks to be held down a little bit harder that night, when they’re them again.

 

There’s no way Nick hasn’t caught on what’s going on, Louis thinks, with how intimate his and Harry’s relationship has turned. Nick sleeps over at theirs all the time, struts around the apartment in only his pants and makes use of their kitchen as if it was his own. So he has to have noticed the way Harry sneaks into Louis’ room in the middle of the night, or how he looks over at Louis for permission before doing anything, or even the dark marks on his back and the bruises on his stomach when he struts around the flat in his pants, or the finger shaped bracelets he wears around his wrists sometimes.

Nick has to have noticed, because he’s smart, and he’s there all the time, and maybe Louis and Harry don’t kiss in front of everyone and they don’t have loud sex every single night (they have surprisingly less sex than Louis thought they would, but then again, it was never about sex for either of them) but they leave little hints scattered all around the apartment, all around their lives, and Nick has lived a wild enough life to recognize what’s going on in front of him.

But he’s never said anything, so Louis doesn’t feel the need to clarify.

That is, until Nick kisses Harry.

Louis knows Harry wants it, knows he’s been waiting for it for a while. And it’s only natural, Nick is older and cooler and smart and knows all the right people, and he might be a bit too pretentious and annoying for Louis’ liking, but that’s mostly the jealousy and Louis has learned to put those feelings aside when they’re together.

And Nick’s gorgeous, really, so it isn’t a surprise when it happens.

Except that Louis is right there and he almost wants to crawl out of his own skin because Nick is leaning in and his lips are right there and Harry is supposed to be his and suddenly things aren’t really working anymore.

Harry pulls away, though, and Louis lets out a breath that he didn’t even know he was holding. He wonders if they know he’s  _there_ , if they’re aware that it doesn’t really take that long to make a cup of tea.

“Wait,” Harry says, and Louis can’t really see his face from this angle, but he can see him shifting closer to Nick, lowering his head to fix his fringe and then looking up, staring straight at Nick.

Nick’s face is clearer and Louis can tell that he’s frowning, confused by the situation. Surely he wasn’t expecting Harry to reject him, was he? Louis can’t help the smirk that spreads on his lips.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Harry continues after what feels like an eternity, and really, Louis almost feels bad about Nick, “before…”

He gestures with his hands, and Nick tilts his head back, laughing, making Louis sort of want to punch him in the face.

“There are some… implications.”

“I see,” Nick says, and he’s trying to pull off his usual cockiness but Louis can tell he’s been caught off guard, he’s not sure where he stands anymore, “Is this about you and a certain boybander with an inclination for sailor clothes?”

Harry laughs again, and Louis would be mad at Nick except that he made Harry laugh and there are actually very few things that make him happier than seeing Harry like that, so he lets it pass.

“Oh Harold, please tell me this is not how you’ve chosen to tell me that you and Tomlinson are actually really together, after all those times I asked and you said no.”

“Not really?” Harry offers, “We’re not? Together, that is. Louis and I. It’s not really… Um. It’s kind of complicated?”

“Oh no, are you telling me that Larry Stylinson isn’t actually real?” Nick asks in his best fangirl voice, and it’s the kind of thing that Harry would laugh at in public, but he’s dead silent now and Louis can tell it’s making Nick nervous.

“Well, um. Louis and I. We’re, we’re different. We’re  _us_.”

Louis smiles despite himself when hears it, and really, there’s no better way to explain it than that.

“I don’t appreciate your cryptic tone, Styles.”

“It’s just that. I haven’t explained it to anyone before, I don’t know how. Louis and I, we fit together. We’re right together, that’s how we work. Like we’re—connected, somehow.”

“So you  _are_ together.”

“But not—not really. I mean. Lou’s with Eleanor, yeah? She’s his girlfriend. I’m not—that’s not us. We’re not. We’re not an item, a couple. We’re—we’re us.”

Harry sounds like he’s getting a bit frustrated by not being able to find the right words, and Louis wants to run to his aid, slide an arm on his back,  between his blazer and his shirt and stroke right where his ribcage ends until he relaxes again. Louis tends to have the overwhelming desire to help Harry all the time.

“It’s like. With a couple, there’s two people yeah? We’re not like that. We’re one, two parts of one thing. We fit together, because that’s where we belong.”

“You’re getting awfully cheesy for my liking, Styles,” Nick says, but his voice is fond, and Louis wants to put an arm around him, maybe even kiss him a little bit, because he seems to get it.

“Does that mean Louis is going to kick my ass if I kiss you?” Nick asks, and Louis’ face falls, the desire to kiss Nick already gone.

“You know that’s not—you’ve seen me kiss people!” Harry exclaims, “I can—I can do whatever I want. I can date if I want, but—“

“But what?”

“But I have to ask for permission first?”

“Oh.”

It takes him a moment, but Nick makes a face like he’s starting to get it, and then his face goes through a series of expressions, one morphing into another, as Louis assumes he’s picturing Harry and Louis and getting a new idea of what their relationship really is like.

“Does he tell you to ask for permission?”

“It was sort of my idea, because. Um. It makes me feel better? When I’m not with him, to know that I have his permission. That he’s okay with it.”

Nick is silent for a moment after that, and Louis really wishes he could see Harry’s face right now, see if he’s upset by Nick’s silent or if he’s relieved that he finally said the truth, or if he’s embarrassed of it. Louis always fears that Harry’s ashamed of them (of him.)

“It does quite make sense, now that you’ve mentioned it,” Nick finally speaks, “How you’re always following him around and sitting at his feet, waiting for his approval after every single little thing you do. I thought you were just smitten with him, but this explains everything.”

Harry lowers his head, the way he does when he’s embarrassed, so his hair falls over and hides his face, and Louis can tell that he’s blushing, even if he can’t see.

“Is it a sex thing?”

“No. I mean we—sex is definitely a part of it but. Um, It’s not like—that’s not why we’re. It’s just one of the perks.”

Nick laughs so hard at this he nearly falls off the sofa.

“And what about other people. Where do we—they—fall here?”

“I mean, Lou’s with Eleanor, you know? And I can, too, if I want to. If Lou approves. It’s just hard to take it farther than just a one night stand though, because not many people are willing to accept that I’ve got someone else at home who’s always going to be more important than them.”

Louis almost yells out Harry’s name after that because really, the kid  _has no tact at all_. Louis should be ecstatic because of his words, because there’s nothing he likes more than Harry acknowledging him as the most important person in his life, but he feels so bad for Nick that he can’t enjoy it properly. He can’t ever imagine telling Eleanor something like that, even if they both know that Harry is his number one priority.

“So you’d never be able to be serious with anyone else.”

“Well, Lou and El are pretty serious, so that’s not it. It’s just—it’s sort of a dead end, you know? It’d never progress. We’d never properly fall in love. I’d always belong to someone else.”

“Whoa Harold, way to break a man’s heart.”

“Shut up, you’re only looking for a snog or a shag, we both know you’re still waiting for Mark to finally acknowledge your undying love for him.”

“Whatever I confide you while intoxicated must never be brought up, Styles, what do I always tell you?”

“Then stop drinking so much, you tend to become an emotional diva when you do.”

“Hush, you.”

They don’t kiss again, after all.

Louis guesses he should be happy about it, because he got his way (he always seems to get his way, somehow) but he’s not. He’s kind of sad for Nick, and for Harry, because he knows they both really wanted it, and there’s a tiny part of him that he’s not ready to take responsibility for that was really excited to see the two hot lads make out some.

He walks into the room and doesn’t mention that he was eavesdropping all along, just plops down on the sofa next to Harry and lets his free hand wander into the boy’s hair while he holds his tea cup with the other. Nick is eyeing them, curious, but he doesn’t seem upset at all, so Louis thinks things might actually work between the three.

They get drunk.

Nick produces a bottle of wine out of nowhere, like he always does, and Harry brings out the rum after that, even though neither of them really likes rum.

It’s even easier, after they’re drunk, because drunk Louis is more relaxed and drunk Nick is slightly bitchier but also a lot less hipster and a lot more fun, and they both engage in their usual banter, which is mocking each other until one of them goes too far and Harry has to intervene. 

Nick keeps calling Harry Louis’ pet and making dog jokes and asking if they need to go to the vet, and it’s stupid and easy and it should bother Louis but instead he finds it hilarious. It’s their best evening together to date, Louis thinks, if only because he stopped feeling threatened by Nick—meaning he stopped glaring at him and making Nick feel like he doesn’t belong—and he can tell how happy Harry is because of it.

It’s three am when Louis decides to go to bed. He gets up from the sofa and gets up to the kitchen –he knows better than to go to bed without eating or drinking anything—and Harry gets up with him, but Louis stops him when they reach the hallway.

“Maybe you should stay with Nick?” Louis suggests, keeping his tone light and smiling so Harry doesn’t feel like he’s playing him, “Don’t want him feeling left out.”

“I—would that be ok? You don’t mind?”

Louis places a hand on Harry’s chest and pushes him against the wall, holding him firmly there for a moment before leaning in and capturing his lips in his own.

“Go have fun with your boy,” Louis says after he’s pulled away, turning to leave, “And don’t come to bed too late or you’re sleeping on the floor.”

Harry nods and walks inside, and Louis goes for the kitchen. He makes himself a sandwich and a cup of tea and gets a water bottle to take with him to bed. He takes his time eating there, because he doesn’t want to walk by and interrupt, but eventually he gets bored and ends up leaving the last bit of the sandwich and half a cup of tea on the counter before heading for his room.

He tiptoes his way to his room, but stops on the hallway and rests his body against the doorframe to peek into the living room. There’s an uncomfortable knot on his stomach when he first sees them, but it melts away quickly as he looks closer.

Harry has his arms around Nick’s shoulders, sort of resting them there, one of his hands holding the back of Nick’s neck. Louis can’t see where Nick’s arms are, but by the position they’re in he assumes they’re on his lap (or down Harry’s pants, but Louis doesn’t think either of them is that fast).

They’re kissing slowly, deliberately taking their time, and Louis can’t see Nick’s face very well but he has a pretty good view of Harry’s profile, and can tell that the boy is smiling into the kiss, a slight flush spreading on his cheeks.

He’s tempted to turn the lights off, make it more romantic for them, but he doesn’t want to startle them or make them feel observed, so he simply watches for another moment before moving away and heading to his room.

And he does miss falling asleep with Harry curled next to him, and maybe the idea of Harry kissing someone else does make his stomach clench uncomfortably, but he knows how much Harry wanted this, and how happy he probably is that it’s happening, and that’s comfort enough to lull him into sleep.

He barely wakes up when the mattress dips and Harry slides under the covers, and he doesn’t even check the time, like he normally does, or reprimand Harry for being late. He just lets Harry wrap himself around Louis like a blanket and press kisses up and down his neck, muttering  _‘yours_ ’ over and over against his skin until they both eventually daze off.

And it works. 

 


End file.
